I was raised in South Arkansas on a farm surrounded by family, horses, cows, donkeys, ostriches, emus, chickens, ducks, Canadian Geese, and enough dogs one would think we were a pound. I’ve got loads of inspiration for stories including why I don’t squirrel hunt, why you should never, EVER, tie your horse up to your momma’s front porch, and why going out in the cow pasture isn’t the best idea.
It was a childhood made for fertilizing the imagination. Some kids wanted to be firemen and doctors and lawyers, but not me. When I grew up, I always wanted to be, no not an author, a flying unicorn. Since I never learned to tap into my powers, I was at a loss for several years on what to do with myself.
And then I bought a Cosmopolitan when I was twenty-two. I don’t recall what I’m sure was some fantastic sex tip, but I vividly remember reading an excerpt of Christina’s Skye’s Code Name: Princess. One elevator scene and quick thought of, I didn’t know people wrote stuff like this… and my life would never be the same.
A few months later of inhaling every romance novel I could wrap my stubby fingers around, my husband comes home and tells me, “Ah, you need to start writing books instead of reading them. That Harry Potter lady is selling like thirteen copies a second right now.”
I shrugged and decided, why not? And that’s how I got here, still living on that same farm where my husband and I are raising our little boy with hopes he’ll have as many adventures and more.